


Mornings

by Notenoughforgenius



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:59:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notenoughforgenius/pseuds/Notenoughforgenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John struggles with flashbacks and Sherlock helps him get through it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornings

There are mornings it’s just too much for John Watson.

Mornings where flashbacks scream louder in his mind than the alarm clock. Mornings where he is woken from a nightmare of gunshots to a world where he has to face more. Mornings of flashbacks to the day Sherlock jumped. Mornings that follow nights filled with nightmares of the three years they spent apart. There are days where the weight in his chest is so heavy he couldn’t find anything to get up for: not work, not a cup of coffee, not even Sherlock Holmes.

The memories of terrible times don’t haunt him often, at least not anymore, but they do come. His head spins with the recollection of this terrible enough to build a horror movie off.  
Some mornings Sherlock would get up, walk to the kitchen to find no coffee made, no ham frying, no note stating that they had run out of eggs or milk, or tea and that John would be back in “just a bit”. On these mornings Sherlock knew his responsibility.

His job was to first phone the clinic. Say that general practitioner John Watson wouldn’t be able to make it that day, yes he would be back tomorrow, something had just come up with his sister. Next, call Lestrade and tell him that he was busy, and that Scotland Yard would have to do their own detective work that day.

Then Sherlock would head to the kitchen, toast some bread, and ask Ms. Hudson if he could borrow some jam. A cup of coffee was to be made, strong and black. Put breakfast on a tray, it was procedure.  
Finally, Sherlock would walk into John’s room softly, place the tray on the nightstand by John’s bed, and slide under the covers. He’d let John turn around and rest his head on Sherlock’s chest, cry if he needed to, just hold him if that was what he wanted. Placing soft kisses on John’s head, Sherlock would reassure him “It’s ok, it will pass”. And with Sherlock there, it always did.


End file.
